


Distraction

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [28]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: F/M, Love, Marriage, Romance, feeling neglected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 13:09:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4667732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm is working too hard......and Sam is feeling neglected.......</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> A great prompt from Flydye8 ........thank you very much......!  
> "I got one for you, Malcolm is working in his home office (on what ever) and Sam decides he is working too hard and needs a distraction."  
> This one was a quickie, but I was quite pleased with the result. Hope you like it.

DISTRACTION.

 

Outside it was pissing down.  
Rivulets of water, coursing their paths down the window panes.  
Pitter pat. Pitter pat.  
Musical.  
Nights closing in.  
Autumn.  
The circle of light from the desk lamp, a single beam illuminating his creativity.  
Malcolm leaned back wearily in his chair.  
Rubbed his tired eyes.  
He'd been working for hours.  
Tapping away on his laptop.  
Deadlines.  
Chapters to finish.  
Rooms resonated with the quiet.  
Kids elsewhere, so Daddy could work in peace.....play dates, after school club, their little voices absent.  
Sam was somewhere in the house.  
Moving around.  
She'd bought him coffee......he'd barely noticed.  
Neither the coffee nor her.  
She might have spoken to him, he may have grunted a reply.  
Blinkered to all but relentless toil.  
God. His back was killing him.  
Too long in the same position.  
His stomach growled.  
He was hungry, it was ages since his lunchtime sandwich.  
Half the coffee was still in the cup, a skin formed on the top. He lifted it from the saucer, peered in and frowned.  
Then he noticed......a small note.  
Handwritten.  
Two words.

"Kitchen! Now!"

Curious.  
How long ago had she bought his drink?  
He stood. Stretched. Yawned.  
Ambled down the hallway.  
Into the kitchen, as per instruction.  
Just the hob light glowing. Subdued, inviting.  
A glorious smell of something cooking.  
He sniffed appreciatively.  
Mmmmm!  
Something good.  
Table, laid perfectly, napkins, crystal ware.  
Candle burning......wine bottle, uncorked.  
"Sam?"  
Nothing.  
Fixed to the counter, he saw it.....a second post-it note.

"Main course in the oven. Hors d'oeuvres upstairs."

Malcolm grinned to himself.  
Felt a familiar heat between his legs.  
The minx.  
Headed down the hallway again. 

The landing was in almost total darkness.  
His eyes strained to see where he was going although he knew the way by heart.  
Bedroom door ajar.  
He pushed it slowly, apprehensive.  
Heart thumping.  
More candles, burning, on each bedside cabinet, on the dresser, on his chest of drawers.  
No other light.  
A warm cocoon of pale yellow, a halo around each flame, that flickered and danced, and threw shadows onto the walls.  
"Sam?"  
Nothing.  
Another note, on the bed.  
He reached for it, held it towards the flame to read.  
"Strip off your clothes and lay down on your stomach. Close your eyes and keep them closed."  
He glanced around, she was nowhere in sight.  
All was silence.  
A towel laid in readiness down the centre of the bed, pillows arranged.  
Malcolm undressed slowly, his cock twitching with anticipation.  
Folding his things neatly, as he always did, blinking in the dim glow as his tired eyes adjusted to the gloom.  
Kneeling on the towel, stretching himself flat, eyes closed, obediently.  
Head to one side.  
Waiting.  
His other senses took over.  
Smell.....scents of......fuck.....he didn't know what, but glorious......herbs? flowers? almonds?  
Some shit......the aromas seemed to float around him, surrounding him, seeping into his very pores.  
Touch.....the feel of the soft Egyptian cotton, against his skin, against his hardness.  
Sound.....a slight rustle somewhere nearby, a sense of movement.  
She was close.  
He sighed.  
Held the air in his lungs.  
Fuck......he was excited beyond reason.  
The mattress gave beside him, a knee, a sudden waft of her.......she was there, just at his elbow.  
Still no word.  
Featherlight touch on his steel grey hair, a silken flight mask placed over his eyes, elastic around his head.  
He shivered.  
An awareness of her kneeling, legs either side of him, just below his buttocks.  
A sharp intake of breath at the contact.  
"Sam? Sam?"  
Cool sensation of something liquid being poured onto his pale skin, a libation.  
Puffing out his cheeks......waiting......waiting.  
Oil.  
Aromatic, light.  
That first touch.  
Her hands......gliding, slowly, deliberately, starting at the very base of his spine, then moving up.  
Thumbs pushing in, each vertebrae, then spanning out as they reached his shoulder blades.  
Knuckles, kneading the tension, easing the knots.  
Repeat.  
Smooth.....easy.....sliding up. Up.......and across.  
And again.  
Malcolm groaned.  
Heaven.  
The shoulder tendons, tight as drums, squeezed and massaged, up into the base of his neck.  
He could feel the stress, the taut muscle sinew, being soothed away, with each deft sweep of her beautiful hands.  
Repeat.  
A feeling of sinking, deeper and deeper.  
Just the right pressure.  
Ironing out the lactic acid, popping the fibres like bubble wrap.  
Oh fuck. That felt so good.  
Once more.  
Twice.  
Stroking down his arms.  
First one, then the other.  
Ecstasy.  
Beyond speech.  
Just a moan of bliss, with every motion.  
One hand, lifted, limp and relaxed, held in hers.  
More oil.  
Her fingers kneading the palm, then, one by one, each long dexterous bony finger, tugging gently.  
Why was that so fucking wonderful?  
The other hand.  
Placed back at his side, then a change of position, a shift of weight.  
The sensitive top of his inner thigh..........shit.........he was so hard now it was almost painful to lie on.  
Smoothing down the right leg, fingers finding those points in the calf, that made you want to shout, the tendon at the back of the ankle.....taut as a bow string.  
Holy fuck.  
Lastly gentle pressure on the soles of his feet, knuckles into the arch, and around his toes.  
Left leg receiving the same treatment.  
Sensory overload.  
Every little bit of tension, stress, anxiety melted away.  
Still she had not uttered a single word. 

With a slight swish of clothing, a subtle movement, the impression of her body in the bed vanished.  
Then........nothing.  
Waiting.  
No sound.  
She was gone.  
Fuck!  
What was she fucking playing at?  
"Sam?"  
He raised his head......removed the mask, looking over his shoulder.  
The room was empty.  
Beside him on the pillow......a slip of paper.  
What the.....?

"Take a shower, dress for dinner. I'll be waiting!"

Bloody hell.....she was teasing him now!  
This was beyond a joke.  
Fuck, but his balls ached, his cock was like a broom handle. 

His ablutions did not take long.  
Liberal soaping, rinse, then out.  
Vigorously towelled dry.  
Still stiff as a board, despite having the hot tap turned down.  
Fuck, this was torture.  
Hanging on a coat hanger on the wardrobe door, ready for him to wear, was his charcoal grey Paul Smith suit, a crisp black shirt.  
He shaved. Dabbed on some cologne.  
Dragged a comb through his damp hair, slicked it back, it stayed for a moment then sprang up, unbidden, into curls.  
Regarded his reflection in the mirror.  
It stared dolefully back at him.  
Tutted and shrugged his shoulders, resigned.  
He dressed with great care, taking his time, needing to calm, erection flagging a little......thank god....or how would he zip up his flies?  
Shirt buttoned to the neck. Cuff links specifically chosen.  
Last check, to see he looked presentable.  
Yep, not bad for an old bugger!  
Downstairs, piqued with a mixture of excitement and expectation.

He entered the kitchen somewhat sheepishly, unsure of what he might find.  
There she stood, by the counter.  
A vision.  
Chinese water silk dress with a mandarin collar. Aqua-marine.  
Accentuating her voluptuous curves.  
He'd bought it for her on a trip to Hong Kong.  
Reminded him of Suzy Wong.  
High heels, beautiful make up. Subtle, not too much.  
Shit, but she had gorgeous legs, in that dress and those shoes.  
Malcolm had never been much interested in looks, he'd liked Sam right from the start, she was smart, funny, a great personality.......  
......great tits too.......  
He smirked to himself at the workings of his mind.  
"Nice of you to join me....."  
She smiled, handed him a glass of something.  
"Sit down.....dinner is ready. You've scrubbed up well, I must say."  
He encircled her in his arms, kissed her.....  
"You look sensational, how can I concentrate on dinner, with you looking like this?"  
She gave a merry laugh......  
"Sit......do as you're told!"  
Malcolm didn't argue.  
Sitting in the glow of the candle light, they ate, drank, talked.  
"It's good to see you do actually notice I'm here!"  
"I'm sorry darling, I just got so wrapped up in trying to write. The deadline is Thursday and I'm way behind."  
"Well......I decided you needed a little distraction."  
Pushing her plate away, she came around the table and perched herself across his lap.  
"Well, it worked.....fucking hell Sam.....you're so bloody gorgeous."  
She caressed his cheek with the back of her hand, touched his lips with her own.  
"Is there dessert?" He asked shyly.  
Her hand moved down his chest, tracing the line of his shirt buttons, determinedly travelling south.  
His hips jerked up at her touch. He sucked in a breath.  
"Oh fuck.....Sam!"  
"I'm dessert." She whispered.  
"Really? Well.....in that case...."  
Reaching forwards to kiss her again, he hitched one arm under her knees and the other around her torso, scooping her up and carrying her, he headed for the stairs........

**Author's Note:**

> I have two Dr who prompts, I am currently working on, from whouffleforever and Petersgal......so more stories to follow.......  
> Flydye8 .......hope you like what I did with your prompt!


End file.
